Choosing the right primary care provider is vital for maintaining good health. At St. Joseph Clinics, our primary care team takes a holistic approach to healthcare, getting to know you as a whole person and guiding you toward optimal health. Our providers are committed to working with you on this journey towards better health.
C all 20 8 .750.7355 now to schedule an appointment or visit SJClinics.org/primar y-c are to learn more.
BELINDA ROBERTS, FNP-C
AMY JOHNSON, MSN,AGNP-C
AMANDA MOORE, DNP, FNP-C
COLAS, DO
GREGGAIN, MD
DAVIS, MD
I have a system of writing my editor’s letter; I just sit down and write whatever is on my heart. I am doing something I’ve never done before- re-publishing a letter! This is my letter from the third issue. I felt my intuition kept calling for me to release this again and so I thought- let’s do it. It took me awhile to find it and I had so much fun reading my letters over the years. I’ve had many people comment on this particular letter- how they read it to their students, gave it to a graduate or found particular inspiration in it. Although it’s now Tony and I’s 10th wedding anniversary, and so much has changed in the world since I first published it- I felt someone out there needed to hear this message. I want you to know that if you are feeling trepidation on starting a new business venture, a dream, or feeling lostthis is for you.
I have been thinking a lot about lately about everyone graduating, getting new jobs and putting themselves out there. It seems like yesterday when I was one of those people, anxious yet excited as I eagerly stood in line to hear my name be called and walk the graduation stage at the U of I. I was scared because there wasn’t a single prospective employer who called or emailed me back and I had no idea what to do about it. It seemed half of my friends already had their first career jobs, and others, like me, were not-so-patiently waiting.
Turns out, I would have to wait quite a few years for the right job and the wait wasn’t pretty. But I want to share with you what I learned, because once I finally realized it, my life changed.
Don’t wait to do what you love.
Would you believe me if I told you that I don’t have ANY design experience? This issue is the 4th time I’ve have ever opened Adobe InDesign. I am not lying. Do you know that I consider many people to be MUCH better editors than me, considering I’ve never had any formal training? I worked for many years as a magazine editor, true- but I did not go to school for it. Same goes with photography, Photoshop and music (I sing and write songs but I don’t really know anything about music). But who cares? I got my degree in Criminal Justice because I thought I was going to write legislation. I thought jobs in writing weren’t real and that I’d never get one. I didn’t study music for the same reasons. Turns out, you don’t need someone to give you permission to do something if what you do best is something you love.
Don’t be afraid to fail. Don’t be afraid to cry yourself to sleep. Don’t forget what you are passionate about. If you want to be a writer: write. If you want to take photos: take photos. Don’t wait for someone to come along and tell you that you can. When I started this magazine I was scared but determined. I would see the ‘this chick is crazy’ look in potential advertiser’s eyes as I described my free, retro style magazine concept. But I loved the idea of this magazine! I knew they might not get it without seeing it, but one day they would and they would call me to be in it. And if a woman like me with anxiety can do it, you definitely can! It definitely helped that Tony would always be there to remind me of this every day.
I spend a lot of time thinking about the gifts we are given in life and how we use or waste them. I learned this from my grandma, who still danced wildly to Hog Heaven Big Band’s version of “Tuxedo Junction” even when she was very old, frail, and sick with cancer. Even on her worst days, she still did what she loved.
Take the risks you want to in life. Some of them might not work out. But who cares? Don’t worry about it- just try it again. Remember that failing- if you even want to call it that- is part of success. Home&Harvest is everything I always wished I could do. Then one day, I just did it. It hasn’t always been easy- I’ve had typos go to print, I didn’t make my sales quota in the first issue and I keep messing up my website the more I try to fix it. But the best part is, every day I wake up, have my coffee, sit at my desk and do what I love. Although I am still scared, I have never been happier. You deserve that too.
Thank you for reading Home&Harvest. Thank you to my writers, photographers and advertisers for supporting this. This magazine is nothing without you. Thank you to my readers for leaving me with empty racks that I can’t wait to fill! I hope you all love this issue and I hope you know how much your support means to me.
p.s. Happy 1st wedding anniversary, Tony. I love you. Here’s to our first days off in 6 months to celebrate! (I forgot to mention that following your heart is hard work. But it’s worth it!)
g Roll Up Those Sleeves
Laura Morgan BY
GGlorious, sun-ripened peaches nestled in an open-topped cardboard box, making a golden pile, a hint of rouge on their cheeks. The box must have multiplied itself on the car ride home because we unloaded many containers, placing them on the kitchen table. We stood: my mother, my older sister, Debbie, and myself, contemplating the task ahead of us. Over the next few hours, we would wash, skin, chop, slice, mash, stir, freeze, and lay on drying trays the bounty of this fruit. We had work ahead of us, but we looked forward to the reward—pies, jams, syrups, and more, with expectant tastebuds. The atmosphere in our house resembled one I imagined from pioneer days. We had a lot of work to do, but we were doing it together, a time to bond as mother and daughters, a time to socialize, reminisce and ruminate, a time to learn food-processing skills both of us sisters would use in our adult lives.
Apron strings cinched, knives in hand, and cutting boards and mixing bowls perched on the counter waiting, we quickly settled into our assembly-line duties. Eventually, younger siblings were put to bed, but we were still working away late into the night. Legs began to ache from standing so long, shoulder muscles tightened from repetitive motions and positions, and yet we labored on. The conversations waxed and waned. Eyes felt bleary. An exhausted giddiness settled in, where even our usually no-nonsense mom was being silly, and there were times of uncontrolled giggles over pretty much nothing. Ever been there?
It was time. The bowls and buckets with peelings and pits were full to overflowing. They needed to be emptied again. When it was still light out, the trek down the hill, across the wide log bridge, and into the patch where woods thinned out and meadow began was no big deal. We had a hole dug where we were dumping the skins and pits, discards to naturally compost over time. But now it was past midnight, and the air was inky black. Debbie and I grabbed flashlights and stumbled down the hill, laden with heavy buckets. Night sounds made us jump, our eyes scanning the darkness. Branches lay in wait, reaching up to grab our ankles, but we made it to the pit. Nervously giggly, one of us commented that if the neighbors were up and saw our flashlights, they might conclude that someone was out here burying a body. The dichotomy between the reality of peach discards and any nefarious activity plucked a chord on our funny bones and sent us into gales of exhaustion-laced laughter. Needless to say, we made it back home unscathed. We were working hard and long hours before seeing the end reward and… having fun while doing it.
Why work? That may seem like a “duh” question, but there’s actually a lot more to it than first meets the eye. It encompasses the questions Who does work benefit? and What are the different reasons we work? I begin my eighth-grade Careers class with a unit I borrowed from a fellow teacher, Cindy Agee, where my students and I explore these aspects of work. We discuss paid vs. unpaid work. Some work is volunteering to help others, some is physically working out for our own benefit, and some work is just a job—something you do because you need the income. I tell them about the worst job I ever had, painting belt buckles during the longest summer ever. I made money for the next year of college, but never wanted to do that again.
Another reason to work is that it is your chosen career, a job you intend to perform over your lifetime. I wanted to be a teacher since I was in, I don’t know, maybe fifth grade.
I loved “teaching” my younger siblings and pretending to correct papers. Lastly, work can be a calling. I definitely also feel this as well. I am using my gifts and talents to minister to my students as I impart knowledge. Creating those professional relationships is so important and rewarding.
We know work is essential to keeping society functioning properly, and so it is in the family. The family is where the value of work ethic is introduced, fostered, and encouraged with the eventual goal of producing humans who have integrity, self-discipline, focus, initiative, punctuality, accountability, professionalism, and dependability. These traits are the ingredients in the recipe for work ethic.
Work ethic is a set of principles, according to Oxford Languages, that “hard work is intrinsically virtuous and worthy of reward.” Basically, one could say work ethic is placing positive value on doing a good job at whatever task a person is performing. Work isn’t punishment; it is purpose. Work is engaging in meaningful activity that is good for both our physical and mental health. Our ethic, or how much we value work, will dictate how we approach not only jobs, but problems or challenges we encounter, or how we respond to certain situations. Having a strong work ethic is important and desirable, and the foundation for learning its value lies within the family unit.
This is a family value that needs to be explicitly taught, modeled, and practiced. It is doing one’s best in any situation, giving a task importance and meaning. It is teaching our children to think like an owner. I’ve mentioned Jocko Willink and Leif Babin, co-authors of Extreme Ownership. They write, “Also, work hard. I should have said that first. Work hard—that is the foundation.”
I want to give a shout-out to all of you parents who are already rockin’ it. It is obvious to me as a teacher which students have been taught to value hard work. I had a student in my room after school one day and heard his end of a phone conversation with his dad. I was impressed by his respectful tone and how he agreed to perform a chore he was assigned to do as soon as he got home from school. He wasn’t whining or complaining, just telling me after he hung up that he was going to work when he got home. Perspective and attitude is everything!
Students who work hard on an assignment, who get their work turned in on time, who make sure to complete missing assignments due to absences in a timely manner, who don’t fall apart at the prospect of a difficult or multi-step project; these students are golden! They are exercising an all-important value muscle, making it bigger and stronger, able to lift more as the years go by. And guess what? Just like developing strong muscles, the pain or uncomfortableness of it is gradual, in small doses, as they are developing work ethic. If parents don’t teach this value, then when their child is put into a situation that requires hard work in order to be successful or to accomplish something important, it will be like asking them to bench press one-hundred pounds when they’ve never lifted before. Or, liken it to throwing them in the deep end of the pool when they’ve never learned to swim. How cruel and unfair would that be? By not starting young and at a manageable level to teach children how to value work, parents may think they are giving their kids a better life, one free from trial and struggle, but the opposite is true. They will have more struggle in life because they haven’t been taught how to handle work. They will not have experienced the gratifying sense of accomplishment one gets from the process of productive struggle. Remember those helicopter and bulldozer parents I’ve mentioned before? What may originally seem appealing in the short-term only does harm in the long-term. What if no one had a work ethic? Our society would collapse. That’s how important work is.
Having a strong work ethic builds perseverance by delaying gratification. Going into a task, knowing that hard work will pay off in the long run, knowing there will be struggle in the meantime but looking forward to the reward, makes all the difference. We should teach our children that sometimes the sense of accomplishment is enough of a reward. As always, the teaching of family values should begin with the parents modeling the value of good work ethic. What does this look like? Getting up and going to work even when you don’t really feel like it, not taking a sick day when you just want to stay home, working around the house to combat the law of entropy. When working, put away distractions (like constantly being on your phone), be punctual to work, -
-practice good time-management and organizational skills, and set SMART goals. Setting goals shows that you value hard work because you are working toward something important. A SMART goal is specific, achievable, measurable, relevant, and timely. Besides modeling these behaviors for your children, teach them explicitly. Talk about goals and how you’ll reach them while you sit around the dinner table. Make family goals: Saturday, we are going to plant the garden. Everyone has a role. After we’ve done our work, we’ll go get ice cream.
Volunteering as a family shows your kids the value of work by helping others. We don’t always do work just for ourselves. Seek out some community projects or organizations where you can volunteer. Children learn the joy of helping others can outweigh monetary gain. Leading by example is crucial.
Begin when your children are young if you’re not past that point in life. If your kids are older, start now. Their expected chores can be cleaning their room or parts of the house, doing dishes or taking care of animals. Pick age-appropriate tasks—ones with a bit of a challenge but not so much it overwhelms them with frustration. Begin by modeling the job, along with clear and concise explanations of the expectations. My daughter Erika, who lives in Alaska, explained to me how, once their children (they have seven!) know the expectations and are proficient to do the job, they teach them to be aware of their job because they won’t get reminders anymore. As they walk past the laundry room, for example, check to see if the clothes need to be moved from the washer to the dryer. When they go in the kitchen, see if the dishwasher is ready to be unloaded. If they see trash on the floor, pick it up. Teach your children to not only be aware of work that needs to be done but train them to ask if there is anything they can do to help.
Hard work does have its rewards, a sense of accomplishment being number one. Parents can decide if they want to also reward with money: an allowance or a commission. The idea behind a commission is that your kids are expected to perform certain chores for which they are not paid, just doing them because they are part of the family. However, they can earn money by doing extra jobs. This can teach them to be industrious. Work can be made a game or a fun competition. Singing while weeding, telling family stories while making dinner, planning how nice a remodel will be and how you can all enjoy it, looking forward to fun family times when it is completed are things you can do.
The rule of opposites (Is there even such a thing? Maybe I just made that up.) applies here. Working hard and valuing industriousness allows the family to appreciate play. There always has to be a work/play balance in life to be healthy, and once you’ve experienced the sweat of toil, you appreciate play all the more. Sam Ewing says, “Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up their sleeves, some turn up their noses, some don’t turn up at all.” Train your children to turn up their sleeves. The work ethic they develop will benefit them in all areas of life: home, school, future employment, and in their own someday families and communities. Life runs on work. Resolve to do it well.
Flank Flame TO Tony Niccoli BY
FIRE GOOD
About 11 years ago, when I first pitched the idea for this series of articles to Heather, I already had the perfect name in mind. Flank to Flame. It was simple, direct, and referenced exactly what I planned to cover. That my dear grilling friends, is the time-honored art of cooking directly over an open flame.
Its primal, cathartic, and baked into the very fabric of who we are as humans. I don’t care if it’s a giant slab of meat, some fungus, seafood, or just veggies, once you get that first moment of sizzle, and wafting scent of roasting delicacies suspended over a bountiful fire, you are hooked! Nothing will ever again compare to sheer joy (in both experience and taste) of cooking over fire.
In our modern and convenient lives, its easy to turn to fast food, pre-packaged foods, and foods that in all honesty don’t really deserve to be called food. Its expedient to microwave main courses, and to rush out to embrace myriad other miracles of the modern age that promise to streamline the process of preparing what we eat. I know how you feel, rushed and needing to resort to the path of least resistance – I do it too.
So today, as the sun bakes down on us all and summer is just around the corner, I’m not going to try to convince you to skip the fast “food” route because its healthy. In fact, I think you should go all-in on indulgence and ignore calories on this one. I want you to go back to simple ingredients you recognize because its fun! I’m suggesting that you go dig a hole in your yard, build a fire, and cook a giant flank of beef directly over it. Disclaimer – you may be arrested, fined, or at minimum looked upon as an unhinged neighbor if you actually dig a hole in your front yard to cook. I take no responsibility for suggesting such a stupid idea. I just think it would be really cool if more people did this.
Sure, you can get most of this experience, and at least 90% of the joy, just by cooking something your contemporary grill of choice. Whether you opt for charcoal or gas, and even if you have fancy heat shields that hide the flicker of the actual flame, you are still grilling on a fire. Albeit controlled flame, that is both miniscule, and up to current safety standards. But to really wring that last bit of exuberance out of the act of charring food, you need to take it to a bigger fire. An open fire. So if you find that your precious reputation as a sane member of the local community stops you from digging fire pits in your front yard, and you have begun to feel that propane is an inadequate substitute for the millenniums old pyromaniac satisfaction you crave, allow me to suggest an alternative. Just go camping. Yes, camping. Where all the same behavioral restrictions that made you seem crazy in your front yard morph into admiration for your bushcraft and resourcefulness. And with the ever-increasing wildfire threats that we face every year, there has never been a better time to dig a hole and (carefully) cook a flank steak over an open fire.
Quite a few years back I wrote an article about using a Dakota Hole and I’m willing to bet that most you reading have either never heard of this incredible technique or already completely forgot. Either way, you – and everyone you camp with this summer – are in for a treat!
Lets start with the reasoning behind digging a hole for our fire. If conditions allow, and you know that there isn’t a camp fire restriction, or you are in a paid campsite with custom build fire rings, then shoot – why take the trouble to dig? Just build a fire and get the cooking started. But when you might be roughing it a bit more beyond the conveniences of a well-appointed campsite, and especially when wind might be a factor, nothing beats a good Dakota Hole. You still want to make sure that conditions allow, and that no flame restrictions are in place, but this route is much safer, easier to contain, faster to properly extinguish, and a heck of a lot of fun! Keeping the fire submerged in the hole well below any wind that might loft embers, using a secondary hole to reduce and vent the smoke, and being able to shovel dirt back in to guarantee it can’t spread when you are finished are the primary reasons to choose this route. Impressing your friends and family is just an added bonus.
So bring along a shovel or really sturdy folding E-tool and start by digging a hole where you want to cook. Keep this in proportion to the number of people that you want to feed, whether you plan to use it as your primary campfire as well as a grilling location, and how much wood you are willing to source. I would suggest starting with something about a foot across and maybe one to two feet deep. This will use a lot less wood than-
-a standard fire, but if you go too big it can still burn through quite a bit.
Additionally you need to be able to work over the hole while cooking so try not to get carried away. The deeper you go the more contained the fire will be, but the cooler cooking area at the surface will take a little longer.
Once you have the primary cooking hole established, start a smaller diameter secondary hole about a foot away from the first one. It should be about the same depth, and connect to the first hole at the very bottom. If possible, try to dig this one at a little angle so its easier to punch through when you connect them. Now kneel down and hollow out a little connection tunnel about the size of your fist. This allow all the smoke from the fire in the main hole to pass out the secondary hole – away from the food and with a direction change that stops embers.
Start the fire in the first hole with small kindling and once you get it going, stand up larger branches that are cut to make sure the won’t reach the top of the hole. This will allow a strong fire, protect it from wind, channel all that heat directly to your food, and maintain a really long burn between refueling.
For cooking, the easiest and most well controlled method is to tote along a metal cooking grate or cast iron pan and set that directly over the first hole. With a pan, make sure to leave a little air gap near the edge. Either way, let it come to heat before you throw in that steak.
Using a bail handle on a Dutch Oven is another great way to go. For this technique, you want to find a very sturdy green branch to lay across the top of the hole. Its important that you don’t try to use a dried piece of deadfall, anything with enough flex to allow it to sag, or something too weak to take all that weight. Look for a branch about as thick as your wrist and completely fresh so that it holds up for the entire cook, and doesn’t start to char and want to catch fire itself. Run the handle of the cook ware over it and allow the Dutch Oven to hang just above or even suspended on the open flame at the bottom of the hole. Alternatively you can use a metal lid-lifter as the cross bar if you have one.
If you want to go full caveman, consider putting the steak directly onto the open flame and coals! Let the fire burn down a bit and wait for really strong coals before you start. The cook time will drop considerably as exposure to that extreme heat quickly sears the outside and races its way in to gently pink the center. Expect a flip at 2-3 minutes and a finished steak at 4-5 minutes for a nice thick cut ribeye, or just a couple of minutes total for a thin flank steak. Be ready to work quickly on the flips, and as always allow time for it to rest after you leave the heat. Sure, you will get a tiny bit of ash doing it this way, but that easily blows off when you pull the finished product. And this, more than anything else, is truly embracing your ancient ancestors and putting flank to flame!
Do a dance. Howl at the moon. Make paintings of your hands, or images of the animals you just cooked. Revel in the primal joy. And remember to apologize to the neighbors if you just did all that in the front yard.
KITCHEN SINK
COOKIES
KITCHEN
Sara raquet
INGREDIENTS
1 cup butter (softened)
1 cup brown sugar (packed)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 tsp vanilla
1 egg
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 cup semisweet chocolate chips (or chunks)
3/4 cup milk chocolate chips or chunks
3/4 cup chopped pretzels
1/2 cup toffee bits
1/2 tsp sea salt
STEPS
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and line a baking sheet with parchment paper. In a large bowl, beat the soft butter, brown sugar, and granulated sugar with an electric whisk until light and fluffy. Add the vanilla, and egg, then beat until smooth. Add the flour, baking soda, and salt. Mix until almost combined. The dough will be a little stiff. Gently stir in the semisweet and milk chocolate chips, pretzels, and toffee bits. Be careful not to overmix the dough. Drop 1/2 cup rounded scoops of dough onto the prepared baking sheet. Cookies should be at least 4 inches apart. Sprinkle each cookie with a touch of sea salt, then bake for 13-16 minutes. When finished, cookies should be golden around the edges, but still soft in the center. Allow cookies to cool on the baking sheet for 5 minutes. Then, allow them to cool completely on a wire rack.
Southwest Hamburger Rice Bowl
Kitchen
emory ann kurysh
INGREDIENTS
Serves 4
2 cups uncooked rice
Beef stock
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 lb raw ground beef
1 tbsp seasoning salt
1/2 tsp chili powder
1/2 tsp black pepper
1 can black beans
1 cup romaine lettuce, chopped
1 cup cooked corn niblets
1 large tomato, cubed
1/2 yellow onion, diced
Chipotle sauce
1 cup grated cheese, any kind
Tortilla chips, optional
STEPS
Start with adding your rice and beef stock to a saucepan. Cook according to directions and set aside.
Meanwhile, brown the hamburger meat and garlic in a skillet or frying pan. Add the seasoning salt, chili powder, and black pepper. Cook through and set aside.
Start assembling the bowls by adding the rice and hamburger meat to the bowl. Next, gather the remaining ingredients- beans, lettuce, corn, tomato, and onion and add them as well. Top with chipotle sauce and grated cheese (and crushed tortilla chips if preferred). Dig in!
BLACK VELVET
Sara raquet
INGREDIENTS | cake + frosting
Cupcake Ingredients
3 cups all-purpose flour
6 tsp black cocoa powder
1 tsp kosher salt
2 cups sugar
1 tsp espresso powder
2 tsp baking soda
⅔ cups melted coconut oil
2 tsp vinegar
2 cups cold water
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
Marshmallow Buttercream
2 cups unsalted butter at room temperature
5 cups powdered sugar
1/2 tsp kosher salt
2 tbsp half and half
1 tbsp pure vanilla extract
1 13 oz. container marshmallow creme
STEPS
For the chocolate cupcakes: Preheat oven to 350° F. Line 2 regular size cupcake pans with 24 paper liners and set aside. In a large bowl, whisk all dry ingredients to combine. Make 3 large holes in the dry ingredients. In a separate smaller bowl, combine oil and vinegar. Pour this into the 3 holes of the dry ingredients. Pour the water over entire mixture. Mix with a fork. Add vanilla and stir. Divide batter evenly amongst the 24 cupcake wells. Bake for about 25 minutes, or just until a toothpick comes out clean. Remove cupcakes to wire rack to cool completely.
Marshmallow Buttercream:
In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, whip butter on medium-high speed until very fluffy, about 8 minutes, occasionally scraping down the sides and bottom of the bowl. Add powdered sugar and salt, and beat on low to incorporate. Add half and half and vanilla extract, mixing on low until combined. Increase mixer speed to medium-high and beat until very light and fluffy, about 5 minutes, occasionally scraping down the sides and bottom of the bowl. Then add marshmallow creme and mix on medium speed until just combined. Frost cupcakes and enjoy.
Cupcakes + Marshmallow Buttercream Frosting
TRAIL MIX
COOKIES KITCHEN
INGREDIENTS
Makes 2 dozen
1 cup butter
1 1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 tsp vanilla extract
2 large eggs
2 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 cups trail mix
STEPS
Preheat oven to 375°F. Line cookie sheets with parchment paper. Combine butter, sugar, vanilla, and eggs in a bowl. Use electric mixer to mix on high until batter is fluffy. Set aside.
Now add flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt in a separate bowl. Stir until combined, then make a well.
Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients. Mix well. Finally, add the trail mix and stir until it’s evenly mixed. Scoop and spoon the batter onto the cookie sheets. Bake for 10-12 minutes or until golden brown. Remove from oven and let cool before serving.
STRAWBERRY
cheesecake pie + pretzel crust
KITCHEN
sara raquet
INGREDIENTS | crust + pie
Pretzel Crust
4 cups pretzels
½ cup unsalted butter, melted
3 tbsp brown sugar
Pie
8-ounce package cream cheese, softened
1 ½ cups granulated sugar, divided
½ cup heavy whipping cream
½ tsp vanilla extract
2 pounds strawberries (washed, hulled and dried)
1 cup water
2 tbsp cornstarch
3-ounce package strawberry gelatin
STEPS
Preheat the oven to 375°F.
In a food processor or blender, pulse pretzels until finely ground (you should have about 1 1/4 cups ground pretzels). Pulse in melted butter and sugar until combined. Press evenly into 10-inch pie dish. Bake for 10 minutes or until firm. Let cool completely. You can refrigerate once the dish is cool to the touch to speed up the process. Combine the cream cheese and 3/4 cup sugar in a large bowl. Beat until smooth. Add the whipping cream and vanilla and beat on medium-high speed until a peak form. Spread onto the bottom of the cooled pie crust. Place the strawberries on top of the cream cheese layer. In a small saucepan, heat the water, sugar and cornstarch over medium heat. Stir constantly. Once it has come to a boil, cook an additional 1-2 minutes, or until it has become clear and thick. Remove from heat and stir in gelatin. Stir for one minute, or until the gelatin has dissolved. Allow to cool slightly (about 5-10 minutes), then pour evenly over the top of the strawberries, making sure they all get coated with the glaze. Refrigerate for 2 to 4 hours, or until it has set. Store in the refrigerator until ready to serve. Slice and enjoy!
Authentic gluten free mexican gorditas
Kitchen: Mary ZepedA | Submitted by:
Deborah Clairmont-Ross
Photo: Lance Ross
Discover the Flavors of Mexico
By Deborah Clairmont-Ross
In today’s world, cooking at home is more and more the focus of everyday living. About a year ago, I met Mary Zepeda. At the time, I had no idea how special of a person she is. As we grew in our friendship, I found Mary to be an extraordinary person. Mary would come over and make an authentic Mexican dish for my husband and me.
Each Mexican dish was so delicious, I told Mary, “you have to share this knowledge”! With her history of being Mexican and growing up in Southern Texas, making weekly visits to Mexico with her grandparents, Mary’s knowledge of authentic cooking grew from her grandmother and aunts. Her hands-on cooking classes and recipes are a feast for the senses, combining rich flavors, fresh ingredients, and time-honored techniques. Mary’s Gorditas are a prime example of authentic Mexican cooking; easy to make and versatile in the many ways you can serve this delicious snack, meal, or party appetizer.
INGREDIENTS
Makes 12 Gorditas
2 Cups MASECA Instant Corn Masa flour
1 ½ cups warm water or chicken broth (optional)
¾ teaspoon Salt (Sea Salt)
1 ½ oz Olive Oil
1 teaspoon Olive Oil (coat the pan evenly)
STEPS
You’ll need a Flat Cast Iron frying pan or small flat grill.
In a medium size bowl pour two cups of corn flour, stir in salt and mixing well. Slowly add warm water (warm Chicken Broth), and add olive oil into mixed flour until the dough holds together and is slightly wet. Grab some dough enough to roll into a ball the size between 1 ½ and 2’’ (the size of a small egg). Press rolled balls into 1/8’’ size patties, then place patties on pan or grill. Test: Make sure after rolling the ball to take your index finger and press into the ball. If no dough sticks to your finger than you are ready to press the Gorditas.
Preheat frying pan medium-high heat, add 1 teaspoon of olive oil (to moisten the pan), and rub around evenly with paper towel. Place several Gorditas on the flat pan or grill. Turn heat down to medium heat, golden brown on both sides. It takes about 3-5 minutes depending on thickness of Gorditas and heat to complete. Test one by cutting the Gordita in half, if doughy, not done. To Serve: Cut Gorditas in half or whole, stuff with refried beans and mozzarella.
Translation:
Picture, left: Mary Zepeda with Carne guisada con arroz y taquitos de queso fresco.
Swiss steak with rice and taquitos filled with white cheese.
HabItats
byJacqueline Cruver
Almost every living thing requires food, water, shelter and space in which to live. The sparrows and nuthatches share the habitat of my neighborhood and I watch them take polite turns at the house shaped feeder. They perch and ponder, they flit off then return to the community gathering beneath my old willow tree. Some bird authorities believe that birds kindly let each other know when they discover a new source of seeds or bugs. Most of the backyard species we are familiar with here are non-migratory and find enough food year-round in their immediate vicinity. The coy quails darting beneath the cover of my old lawn chair need only about 40 acres to establish ample food plots, nesting cover, brood territory and covey headquarters. According to multiple agencies following the food needs of wildlife, most healthy species survive in a surprisingly limited range of habitat. Owls need only to cover a single square mile, deer 1 to 2, elk 2-8, moose 3 to 6 and the wiley coyote 20 miles or more, depending on the number of coyotes in the area and what they can or cannot find available.
FOOD
Much like wildlife, our food needs must be met in our habitat. This observation brings to mind a book title; The 100 Mile Diet: A Year of Local Eating. Written in 2007, the book was not a collection of destination restaurants but a Canadian couple’s experiment to eat only foods and beverages sourced within a 100 mile radius. It rekindled concepts that I already understood and inspired me to buy local more often. The practice of intentional consumerism is powerful when our dollars become our votes and effectively enhance the quality and sustainability of our community. In our immediate counties, our habitat, we have access to fresh produce, eggs and meat to put on our tables and local brewers of beers and kombucha, coffee roasters, cider and wine makers. Oh, I can’t forget the local grains, pulses and milled flour we now have available from local growers, too. These treasures are available at the site of production, selected grocery stores and seasonal farmers markets. The seasonal markets in Washington state now exceed 100 and Idaho hovers near 60. There are even many online options to purchase ”fresh local” for those of you who want to continue to avoid eye contact with other humans. I, my friend, will be shopping and mingling at our delightful farmers markets.
Most Saturdays you will find me perched upon a sunny window sill in Friendship Square, enjoying the live music and covertly people-watching. Occasionally I recognize an old acquaintance and chat long enough to confirm that life is presenting us both similar joys and hiccups but most of the time I am watching the fascinating assemblage of unfamiliar faces. There will be children being children while splashing in the fountain and stressed parents chasing tots around the play area, utterly unaware of how fleeting those precious toddler years will be. I’ll see silver-haired couples holding hands showing that love endures and some who are clearly happy dancing alone. The ambling crowd is marking time at the same cadence yet all in very separate realities. I love how the farmers market can make ‘many’ feel like ‘one’. The blend of students, families and growers mingling with ranchers, researchers and a variety of tradespeople provides a striking visual of the incredibly diverse population found in our four neighboring cities. This colorful gathering, now in its forty-eighth year, provides a rich and secure source for supporting local growers while reminding us what community feels like.
Each week I fill my feed bag tote with riches harvested from the immediate habitat we are so fortunate to live in.
I also seek out local sources when I travel. I was taught by a friend who drove a sales route of 5 states how she planned her itinerary around established food co-ops and local farmers market times. I learned that it is totally possible to go on road trips without eating road food. Eating habits are not easy to change but altering a few at a time isn’t difficult. It can start with preparing just one meal a week using locally sourced items during harvest season. With some planning maybe once every month, you can make a whole week’s meal plan of only locally sourced food. I can no longer provide this from my own tiny garden and it was a challenge even when I had an immense plot. Nowadays I leave the planting to the farmers and labor only in my kitchen to process as much as I can for the off season. I highly recommend getting on a list to receive one of the local community supported agriculture (CSA) shares if any are offered in your area. There will be a waiting list but you will taste things you may not have tried before. Have you enhanced a salad with tender sunflower or pea shoots yet? Our local small farms have learned how to select and grow the best produce varieties for our zone conditions and for flavor. There are root crops, winter squash and greens available at the winter markets that extend the growing season and co-ops will buy as local as possible throughout the off season.
Fruit trees that once covered much of our area have diminished but there are still an abundance of apples, plums, peaches and apricots available from local orchards. I recently found some abandoned quince trees and with permission came home with fifty pounds of the unique dense fruit that turns a warm rosy pink when cooked into jelly and jam. I fill my pantry with a bounty to share with neighbors and friends, providing opportunities for personal interactions. The connections made with the simple gifts last months longer than the opened jars of jams.
SHELTER AND SPACE
“Each species searches for features within an environment that are directly or indirectly associated with the resources that an animal would need to reproduce, survive, and persist.” This is a quote regarding principles of animal habitat selection in nature according to a webpage from the University of Idaho. So what do I need to survive and persist? When people search for their preferred surroundings we have a very long list. We need clean water and simple housing. We need access to power and communication systems. We need bin-collection, public transit and schools. These are just some of the basic elements of a community. It must also have the ability to thrive and grow because the places we live, work and play determine our own ability to thrive and grow. Both mental and physical needs must be addressed for my well-being so I must mull over a few more compelling questions about what I want or need to find in a community.
1) Does the number of people living in the community matter? Some intriguing studies done by researchers at Princeton were published In 2010 and 2016 in the journal Nature observing ants. They were interested in group size and its effect on social behavior, and correlated it to humans. The findings revealed that increasing group size can benefit members of the group and at the onset of group living the colony thrived. Even in small groups of 1 to 16, -
-tasks were performed more consistently. They self-orga nized into distinct roles and divisions of labor to fill needs of foraging for food, caring for infants and constructing the tunnels of the colony. Simple groups grew and progressed into larger colonies. In the wake of destruction, those that had been established longer were more stable but even the smaller, less stable colonies were still able to quickly rebuild in a matter of days to efficiently continue their priorities. If people are at least as efficient as ants then I guess size doesn’t matter as long as it is more than one.
2) What are the factors that would give me the most assur ance of safety?
The wide open spaces of this region were once unsettling to me. I had come from the west side where forests seemed to hold me in a comforting hug and I felt exposed in the end less square miles of fields and prairie of the Palouse. I want ed cover. I wanted to hide behind trees and stay safe. When I asked residents who grew up here they all disagreed with me. They said they were not at ease in the forest and trees didn’t make them feel safe at all. I didn’t get it. Eventually a conversation with an avid outdoorsman brought it to light. He simply said, “I like living where I can see my enemy coming.” This offered a whole new perspective on protec tion and security. Our feeling of safety comes from our state of mind and an appropriate amount of preparedness. Nothing else.
3) How would my priorities fit into the community?
My own unique priorities are what keep me grounded and balanced. Recreation in the outdoors keeps my mind and body balanced but in addition to access to nature I also need to feel I contribute to a larger part of the picture. I knew I was a meaningful part of a whole during the years I stayed home to provide my children a healthy and secure habitat. This need was also satisfied in my career assisting researchers who were working to retain biodiversity of the planet’s green food and on a more direct level to the community, when I helped grow and distribute goods from the WSU organic farm to the tables of the Palouse. These all fulfilled a priority to be part of something bigger. Free from any professional obligations now and spending unstruc tured days at home, I find joy in being part of my neigh borhood, by mowing my lawn and shouting a loud hello to my neighbors across the not-very-busy street. This is something I wish I saw more traces of. Too many of us are feeling alone in life, not part of anything while surrounded by people. Neighborhood block parties were once a way of always welcoming new people to the block and allowed for a chance to feel cohesiveness with faces we see coming and going on a daily basis. Today it is likely we only know one or two of our neighbors and conversations are seasonal. “Hey neighbor!” has fallen to the wayside as technology becomes the preferred voice.
“Technology advances as collective wisdom declines.” Mary Pipher
I recognize and embrace the advancements and benefits-
photo by Jacqueline Cruver
Sadly, if you listen to the voices of the Arizona town hall meetings, you learn of the inherent problems of the rest of the city’s population and the challenges to those who are trying to improve them. Formidable blocks to a vibrant community are present in every big city. Major hurdles like safety, food deserts, and lack of economic and educational opportunities divide the population. There are very few supportive spaces for the community and a critical lack of affordable housing. A modest one-bedroom rental equals 57 hours of minimum wage work per week. Drastic differences of life expectancy there can actually be noted by zip codes. I was touched by this compassionate closing statement in the minutes of one of their town hall meetings; “When community infrastructure is planned for sustainability, social connections, and well-being, then all people in AZ have the opportunity to thrive.” I hear this as a true statement for Idaho and Washington state, too.
SURVIVE AND THRIVE
Right now nature is seeing her many babies being born. Insects, arachnids, tadpoles, carnivores and herbivores are all welcoming their offspring into the habitat they determined would support them best. As I tend my early garden on a warm May morning I look around me at the elements that make up my small world and see how well it supports my needs. I have food, water, shelter and space in a place that allows me to thrive and grow. Because I looked for and found opportunities to engage in some civic activities that I felt passionate about, I feel a part of a vibrant community. The counties that we reside in have elements of a habitat that many seek and never find. Our elected officials are in constant collaboration between city planners, architects, and engaged community members to develop healthy, inclusive and positive communities. Our smaller scale of populated geography means it is hopefully a little easier for these tireless people to avoid the thorny blocks to a sustainable, thriving community. When you read about forward thinking changes, you can be sure there were many community members contributing time and talent to make them happen and their praiseworthy efforts are not always part of the headlines. A healthy community takes dedicated efforts of many and just like any habitat, it can waste away when depleted. Gary Snyder, considered one of the most significantly influential writers of the twentieth century said; “Find your place on the planet, dig in and take responsibility from there.”
Some of us have found our perfect habitat. It is confirmed to me every time I am traveling out on a rural road and an oncoming driver waves a simple hello above the dash. When I return the greeting and pass it along to the next driver, I can’t help but feel I am a part of all that is good. I know you share that thought with me but it is not just about us. Let’s not forget there are more generations coming who are looking and longing in their dreams of finding it.
“The path from dreams to success does exist. May you have the vision to find it, the courage to get on to it, and the perseverance to follow it”. Kalpana Chawla
With A Farm part 2
Spring Work is needed now. Here is a run through history which is all first-hand documentation. Letters, journals, newspapers. Just amazing to me still after 20 years at White Spring Ranch. This is a continuation of “Spring with a Farm” that began in the last issue. Just in case you thought farming was easy…
WWI. 1918-09-09. Mary Lorang
“I expect you knew that Johnny Weber was in the camp long ago he was moved from camp Lewis to a camp in Kentukee. I suppose he will soon go across. a couple weeks ago George Weber had to go to. he was drafted and went to camp Lewis so Mr. Weber says he has to quit farming, for he has no help only little once. he is not well, so he take it very hard that the boys are going. he can’t work says its his heart.”
1918-09-29, Mary Lorang
“Henry Lestoe talks like that he will enlist. I don’t know how will do the farm work if they take all our boys. Papa can’t work on the farm anymore. well I hope that the boys can down the Kieser very soon, so we can get our boys back again. To of the Johann boys are gone to Camp Lewis and Theodor Johann is gone for training to the Gonzaga College. Johny Hasfurther enlisted. so they are going away one after an other. I sent you a list of boys in my last letter. Papa sold 16 hogs the other day and got something over 600 dollars for them he wants to sell some more. And most of the hogs, so he has not got so much work, he worrys to much about everything. what’s the difference we won’t take everything along.”
1918, Mary Lorang; black, fertile soil… then someone to pick the apples…..
“Charls is blowing (plowing) across the road, that flat, he is blowing the pasture with a walking plow and these horses and our hired man is blowing down in the flat with the gang plow. it is getting black. it looks fine. the weather is nice yet for this time in the year. it did rain quite a bit a while ago, but today was a real sumer day, in the sun it was real warm. Viola and Papa where picking apples and she gets so mad at it. she wore an overaul on to clime the trees. she says if Papa would not give a person a preaching all the time, I would not mind picking. but Oh, that won’t be any different never!
Well we have a young man for a hired man now he is only 21 years old and he did not pass (service) examination. flat footed and poor eyes so he cant go to the war. so I hope we have a man that we can keep anyhow I hope. he is quite active and willing and can handel the horses fine. his name is Arther Griffith.”
Diane Conroy
Then feeding the horses... sitting in the Farmhouse with the new radio this could have easily been heard… but we found it in the Genesee News.
March 10, 1922. The Farm Orchard How to care for it- Proper Pruning, at Proper Time Important Factor For Success.
“Do you ever go to the barn and hitch up your team and go to the field and work there all day without ever giving them anything to eat? Why not? Because you realize to work hard your horse must have something to eat to make muscles, and energy. Because energy is spent in doing a hard day’s work. But just stop and make a comparison with the horse and your bank account. To be able to work the horse you must supply him with food, shelter, etc.; to be able to write an honorable check you must put money in the bank to check on. It is the same with the orchard. To be able to bear fruit of good quality the orchard must be taken care of, furnished with food, and protected against the common diseases and pruned so that the sunlight may get into the center of the tree- and protected so that it will not have a great many limbs that are unnecessary, so that the small area of ground furnishing food for it will be able to furnish sufficient food. If one is making a business of growing apples on a commercial scale and he makes any kind of a success of it, of course these things may be looked after- the same as the wheat farmer’s treats his seed wheat to protect his crop from smut. He does not let the weeds grow because they take plant food that the wheat needs and shades the wheat plant. Although the orchard is only a side issue and of minor importance, the same thing applies to it. If the orchard is worth having, it is worth taking care of, and this can be done very easily, and a great deal when you cannot do much else on a Palouse wheat farm. The dormant pruning and the dormant spraying can be done in the early spring when it is not possible to work in the fields at anything. We all realize that pruning tools are few and inexpensive-a saw and pruning shears- but to spray we will say we need an expensive spray outfit and the orchard isn’t large enough to pay us to get an expensive sprayer, but such is not the case. Let us kill two birds with this stone. We seldom get a crop of potatoes to mature in this section of late without having to spray them to rid them of the potato beetle. Now an inexpensive barrel spray that can be operated by hand will spray your orchard and also spray the potato crop. Then the question comes: How and when should the apple, plum, pear, or cherry tree be pruned? When should I spray them and what should I use to spray them with?”
Or in 1925 on the Radio:
“Following is the summary of Idaho crops and weather for the week ending June 3: North Idaho- Generally fair weather with temperatures above normal obtained during the forepart of the week; the latter part was cool and cloudy. Copious rains were general. It was exceptionally fine growing weather and all crops advanced rapidly. The ground is thoroughly soaked. Dry weather is needed for cherry harvest, which is just beginning, and for bean planting, which has been delayed by the rains. First cutting of alfalfa is heavy. Much of it was caught by rains is needed for cherry harvest, which is just beginning, and for-
-bean planting, which has been delayed by the rains. First cutting of alfalfa is heavy. Much of it was caught by rains before being stacked or stored and some damage resulted. Early cherries were damaged slightly in the Lewiston-Clarkston valley. Southwest Idaho--The early part of the week was bright and warm, but the closing days were marked by cloudiness, occasional rains, and quite cool weather. Conditions were most favorable for the rapid advance of vegetation. Meadow and range grasses, all grain crops, potatoes, sugar beets, cannery peas, all made fine progress. It was a little cool for best growth of corn. Farmers are busy cultivating, thinning beets, spraying and planting late potatoes and beans. Alfalfa harvest has begun. Apples and prunes are growing nicely. The summer crop of head lettuce is being marketed.
“June 12. North Idaho- Generally fair weather with temperatures above normal obtained during the forepart of the week; the latter part was cool and cloudy. Copious rains were general. It was exceptionally fine growing weather and all crops advanced rapidly. The ground is thoroughly soaked. Dry weather is needed for cherry harvest, which is just beginning, and for bean planting, which has been delayed by the rains. First cutting of alfalfa is heavy. Much of it was caught by rains before being stacked or stored and some damage resulted.”
1938, July 8. See if you can follow this!...
“NEW TYPES OF FARM MACHINERY TESTED”
Hobart Beresford, U of I Ag Experiment Station.
During the 1935 harvest season a field trial was made of a recently developed small-size highspeed “all-crop” combine to determine its adaptability to the direct combining of peas under Idaho conditions. The machine has a 5-foot cutter-bar and cylinder of the same width, making it narrow enough to handle easily in small fields, and is capable under favorable conditions of traveling at field speeds of from 4 to 5 miles per hour. In tests made by the Dept. of Ag Engineering, 66 acres of wheat and 33 acres of field peas were combined with satisfactory operation on slopes up to 15%, and with only slight loss of grain on slopes up to 30%. Peas yielding 23.3 bushels per acre were harvested at the rate of 1 acre per hour. In wheat yielding 3.12 bushels per acre, 1.3 acres per hour were combined. Owing to the narrow 5-foot width of cut, peas were picked up cleaner than is possible with the wider cuttterbars on the larger machines. The test revealed that with the new machine threshing injury bears a direct relation to the cylinder speed. At 475 rmp the crackage in peas was 1.09 per cent, at 575 rmp it was 1.56%, and at 650 rmp it was 3.6 %. Operation cost, including combine and tractor, fuel, lubricants, labor, and repairs, gave a total of $1.36 per acre for peas, and $1.09 per care for wheat, as compared to $1.61 per acre for wheat and $2.33 per acre for peas for the larger combine operating under similar conditions. The possible saving in operating cost for the small machine over the conventional 12-foot size is $0.52 per acre in wheat and $0.97 per acre in peas.
With this new development, it is possible for the operator of the smaller grain farm to lower harvesting costs to the level of the costs of the large scale farming operation.
1945. April 20, GENESEE VALLEY NEWS
“The weather is milder the last few days with scattered showers. A few farmers have been spot harrowing on south slopes and hilltops to prevent baking, but general spring work is several days off.”
“WINDBREAKS OR SNOW FENCE” (By J. M. Rabdau)
A winter of heavy snowfall, such as this one, with snow drifts piling deep on the north slopes of the farmland, points out the necessity of hilltop tree plantings or snow fences in their stead.
The snow banks on the north slopes will remain long after the other land is in condition to work. Either the seeding of spring crops must be delayed or the spring planting must be made at different times. This is one bad thing about snow drifts, but not the worst.
The winter moisture is not evenly divided for the following season’s crops. There is too much moisture on the north slopes and not enough on the south slopes.
Erosion is usually most severe on north slope with a snow bank, and very frequently soil slips occur under these drifts. In this vicinity there are several north slopes where the soil has slid out. Some more will occur this spring. If the slips are of any size they cannot be economically fixed, also adjoining land is usually abandoned from farming. A soil slip on a north slope may be 50 feet wide, 100 feet long and 5 feet in depth.”
1949: “May 20. The farmer and rancher of today are businessmen, and the operation of a farm with power and machinery is more complicated and hazardous than for the average merchant and storekeeper conducting business in town. The All-In-One Liability Policy is issued by the Farmove Insurance Exchange, which was organized as a cooperative to provide farmers and ranchers with the best and broadest forms of insurance protection at special low rates. Without obligation, you can get complete information on this policy from - FARMERS INSURANCE GROUP MICKEY & CHILDS INSURANCE AGENCY”
“May 27. It hasn’t seen much like May the past week, with cloudy misty days and cold winds on sunny days, but grain seems to be doing all right. There are a few wet patches, no seated, but most of the spring work, including summer fallowing, is done.”
1950. “April. Farm Machinery Repairing Spring Work will be Starting Soon. If you have been delayed in making repairs or completing overhauling of your Tractors or other equipment, we suggest you contact us at once for delivery date, for estimates and for allowance of time to obtain all necessary parts. General Repair Shop, Wayne Roach Phone 3211.”
In 1947, Henry Lorang writes, “In the Kitchen, Joan’s Birthday, ’47.
Hi Gals! While in the acts of addressing, I decided to take time by the inviting warmth of the stove, to set you right and up to date, on current topics in this vicinity. February came- the ground-hog saw his shadow-but, despite this omen of adverse weather conditions, we had a wonderful month all the way through and up to the middle of March. (Just like spring most of the time) When the sun crossed the equinox and the moon changed too, the weatherman began to threaten us. Saturday it rained a little, & on Sunday it was cold & had a trace of snow. Yesterday and today the sky is overcast and it really is cold. People are beginning to do farm work in the field & Sat, Dan & I seeded the hog pasture in the orchard. I could go out and harrow but I don’t like to on a/c I’m here alone.”
Then there’s always the new ideas!
1949, “Farm-In-A-Day Show Draws Crowd To View Operations
Genesee farmers joined the huge crowd last Thursday to witness the remaking of a farm west of Moscow, the place owned by Ralph Bursch.
Farm equipment dealers and farmers supplied about 60 pieces of machinery to rebuild the farm along the lines favored for strip cropping. All of the land, which is rather hilly, was worked by the various implements on the contour under supervision of the U.S. Soil Conservation Service. The farm-in-a-day program was promoted by the county soil conservation district supervisors, the soil conservation service and Moscow chamber of commerce. The program also included construction of a stock pond.
Judging from reports and being almost brutally frank, many farmers are of the opinion that strip cropping except on moderately rolling lands is a practice of farming which does not meet with their approval. They do agree, however, that strip cropping is one means of stopping erosion and retaining fertility of Palouse soil.
During the demonstration there were so much equipment in use that interested farmers naturally rebelled at the cost of purchasing new equipment for the many phases of work accomplished. Soil conservation men are of the opinion that few changes in present-day equipment are necessary to carry out the approved practices of strip cropping.
Inland Empire farmers are vitally interested in soil conserving and soil building, and they are joined by others, or the large number of people would not have been at the Bursch ranch last Thursday.
At Genesee, Marion Holben has progressed farther than anyone else in the Inland Empire with strip cropping and contour farming. It is understood that J.P. Anderson is now engaged in laying out his farm north of Genesee for the practices mentioned. Like numerous other practices strip farming may be rather slow in gaining favor locally. That is the opinion of many land owners. It has even been mentioned that adjoining lands of individuals might some day be farmed without fence or border lines, to gain advantage for turning equipment and farming on the contour with less expense.”
By 1967, several more crops besides wheat were being grown. Peas, beans, canola. Rotation. “Confusing the Bugs” as Janet Lorang calls it. Here she writes:
“Dearest Mom and Kids, Received your letter today and was so happy to hear from you. Dan is as busy as ever he’s getting anxious to get the Spring work done at the Ranch. He is going to take Friday off so he can be in the field for two days. He also has a couple of weeks vacation coming up, and he’s hoping the rain holds off. I guess he has lots of work to do. Wished I had as much go as he has.”
And last, but not least, here is a letter from Dan c.1967:
“Dear Mae, Bert and family, Please tell everyone you see that I know, hello for me. Farming is great. I am working in the bakery here 7 hours a day 5 days a weekin the summertime I am busy doing both, but that is the way I like it.”
Healing HOME THE
ANNIE GEBEL by
When the chaos and trauma that were in my life a few years ago culminated in a need for me to find a new place to live, I ended up in a house on a wide creek. I was looking for a small apartment or a dingy corner to be tucked away into. I didn’t feel especially worthy of anything like life on a waterfront and I didn’t feel capable of taking care of much more than myself. Yet, when I went looking… there wasn’t anything to rent until I found this place, with lawn care, snow removal, and more all included! There was no way to say no to it. In fact, when the landlords balked at the prospect of renting to someone who was newly separated and unemployed, I gave them all the reasons why they should take a risk on me in a letter, including, “The kids and I walked through the house again on Monday, laughing and feeling at ease. We talked about what we’d put where and where the hang out spots would be with friends. We started talking about the house as a place where we can heal. The Healing Home. That’s what we’ve started to call it and it, along with the flowing water it fronts, will hold us as that process begins.” Thankfully, they didn’t say no.
That was one of many shifts for me during the years I lived through the stress and difficulty of the situation I was in. I almost didn’t look at the place because it represented more to me and I was just trying to get through the day, not looking for more of any kind. In fact, I was actively seeking less. I desperately wanted less stress in my life. I certainly didn’t want more. What I realized, though, was that I was - I am - deserving of peace. The space that home gave the kids and I. The sounds of the water moving outside. The incredible and constantly changing views. We were held in our healing home and we deserved that…and more.
Among the many lessons living on the creek taught me, one of my favorite was recognizing how beautiful it was in every season and every weather condition. It didn’t matter if the water was low or high. I enjoyed looking at it when it was running over the banks, when the ice flowed from the foothills in big chunks, and when it moved more peacefully. I loved taking it in, watching it, simply being with it. Because I somehow always see my life as a metaphor, I started to accept that wherever I was in life was beautiful too. If I was spending the day curled up and grieving, I could see it as good and healthy. If I was feeling energetic, I could acknowledge it’s worth for what it was and not be as anxious about getting everything I possibly could done, knowing it wouldn’t last. Rather I’d appreciate that that energy was mine to do with what I wanted to and could do for the time that I had it - and I’d also admit that it would come again. Every stage has a place and a point. And, during every season I was in, no matter how stormy or sunny I felt, I was not only worthy of love - I was loved through each one. People supported me, were willing to talk with me, wanted to be with me. The flowing waters and I had that in common - we’re ever-changing and loved through each iteration.
The biggest shift for me came a few months before I moved out of The Healing Home and into a place of my own. I didn’t know that change was coming yet, but the steps were being laid.
For what started out as a very practical reason, I always watched the waters looking in the direction the waters had come from. The reason was that, although there was a cute, little red bridge in the other direction, there was also traffic. So, to have the cars at my back, I looked backwards. No big deal. The creek also split just before it got to my section of it, so I could see the larger part to the left of an island and a smaller, much slower and narrower part to the right of the island. This gave me great options to enjoy and even more ways to relate to the waters. There was even enough of a separation that I could go nearer to the quiet stream and listen to the gentle flowing without hearing the rush of the larger section. It truly was magical and definitely held a way to relate to however I was feeling!
Anyway, almost a year into living in this house, enjoying the creek, and processing a lot of grief and change in my life, I realized I spent a lot of time looking backwards. I spent a lot of time watching the water come at me. I spent a lot of time wondering about what had been in my life and questioning if there was any way I could have done something differently. What if the waters had eroded the right bank more than the left? Then the house I was in wouldn’t have the quiet, gentle part of the flow - that would be across the way on the other side. That island might have been worn away and might not even be there. How would my life be different if I’d flowed in a different direction? What might not be here? Would I be here?
Deep, deep cleansing breath.
We don’t know the answers. I can’t tell you. Yet I do know that the water and I had created the paths we had. Period. There’s no going back. And we’re still flowing beautifully.
And exhale.
I think that looking back and grieving what was gone, and also what hadn’t even happened yet and never would, is important. I believe it was healthy and beautiful for me to cry again and again as I mourned dreams and memories alike. And, I realized that day that I was ready to turn my attention downstream. I took my chair and turned it to face the bridge. I started looking toward where the water was going. I started wondering where I was headed. In a lot of ways, I started to live again - not just exist or survive or get through. I started to dream.
After the waters of this particular creek flowed past The Healing House and under the bridge, they disappeared around a bend. I don’t know where the waters went after that turn in their path because I never went to find out. I did, however, follow my own path as it flowed and twisted and accelerated and came to life in front of me. As I said, I didn’t know I’d be moving away from that property, but I did and into a place that is mine where I can create a life that is mine. People often ask if I miss living on the water and the truth is that I don’t think about it often. When I do, though, it’s with the sense of awe and fondness that it held me, and my children, through some of the most intense grief and incredible changes. I’ll always appreciate that gift. And, sure I miss how beautiful it was, yet I also find incredible beauty in my new surroundings and, I’m sure, more parallels to my life. My path and my healing continue onward, after all, in Healing Home Number Two.
Photo, right: Annie Gebel
I had the most amazing dream the other night; I met you, and we were home.
I can remember every little detail. It was a normal day at the shelter. I’ve been here a very long time, many years. I’ve had so many great memories but every day I wish for the one thing every dog dreams of: to hear my owner walk through the door, and to just know it’s them by their smell. That’s how my dream started- I smelled YOU!
You said, “Kaya, you are my baby! What a good girl!” and I wagged my tail so hard I thought it would come off! You bought me a leash already- my own leash! And after we got to go to the best room- the adoption paper room, I said goodbye to everyone, and promised this time it was for real. Walking through the halls was like a dream. “Is that Kaya’s family? Finally- a home for Kaya! I can’t believe she’s the longest-staying adoptable pet here. She’s so incredible! I will really miss her singing voice.”
When we got home, I was so happy. I sniffed everything. I was scared but you said, Kaya- I’ll never leave you. I was happy to see there were no other pets in your house. The one time I was adopted it was overwhelming with cats and dogs- I’ve been so used to being in my kennel it was too much. But you said I was the perfect amount of pet for you and showed me the most special things. There was a jar on the counter with a biscuit on top. It said Kaya’s treat jar! There was a giant dog bed next to your bed and you told me that I might need space but my bed is your bed. I jumped on it and sent out a WOOF! I sang my best notes. You told me that I was lucky I was a dog or else I would put Taylor Swift out of a job.
We went on short walks all the time because you learned I have arthritis and need medicine and check ups. You didn’t care at all! I don’t understand it but you said something like, “Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy.” On our first walk, you met some human friends. I tried to behave on the leash and not get too excited. “Is this the famous Kaya we’ve heard so much about,” they asked? I felt so special to be in your life like this- bragged about, even. I felt embarrassed for not being able to take long walks but when we got home you said with a smile, “Kaya- welcome to the wonderful world of a comfy couch and a good Netflix movie. I don’t care if you’re 9 years old with some arthritis. A dog doesn’t have to be a spring chicken to be loved, cuz I ain’t no spring chicken, either.” And then it happened- I laid on your lap and slept.
“I forgot how much magic there is in the world”
We had so many great memories. You making nachos and I jumped on the counter and you said, “Kaya!!!” but then you gave me the extra cheesy one! You put up a Christmas tree and my tail wagged on it. When it was snowing, you didn’t want to go outside but you knew I loved the snow so you said, come on! We caught snowflakes on our tongue and you said, “I forgot how much magic there is in the world. Thanks for reminding me, Kaya.”
Sometimes I feel scared and need help and you just say, “Kaya, I’m learning how to ‘people’ just as much as you’re learning how to be a dog!” You always see the best in me. When you found out that I had been in the shelter for most of my life you cried and said you wished you found me sooner, but that the rest of our years together were going to be good ones. Right before I woke up I was getting the magical wish of all dogs- to get and give a boop!
I know you’re coming to get me and I can’t wait. I am so grateful to the Humane Society for taking care of me all these years and I do love being the “beloved Kaya of the shelter!” I am great at being a shelter dog. There’s just one thing- I want to be a pet. Your beloved good girl. Thank you for coming and getting me and making the rest of my life so magical. Every day in my kennel was worth it because in the end, I got you.
See you soon!
Kaya is ready for you to adopt her and make her your forever baby. Please call the Humane Society of the Palouse (208) 883-1166 or visit us at 2019 East White Ave. in Moscow.
A Reading for You
by Annie Gebel
xThings aren’t always great. You may have heard phrases like spiritual bypassing, good vibes only, or toxic positivity. The thing they have in common is this underlying idea that life can be great all the time. And it’s not. It doesn’t matter who you are, how grounded or positive you are, how religious or spiritual you are. None of it. Accidents derail plans and lives. Medical emergencies and diagnoses change what’s possible. Everything from weather to natural disasters to people just being jerks can create situations that just aren’t great. That’s life. For all of us. These cards today are about what you can do to reestablish your center when things aren’t great, how you can regain a grounded or settled feeling when life feels shaky. Take a look at the four cards, one from each minor arcana suit, and see what calls to you. The four minor arcana suits in the Light Seer’s Tarot, by Chris-Anne, are Wands, Cups, Swords, and Pentacles. They represent the four elements of fire, water, air, and earth, respectively. That may help you choose or maybe it doesn’t change your intuitive inclination at all.
Knight of Wands
When things are great, sometimes you can simply buck the system! It’s not always what’s called for, but sometimes it just feels good to call out of work for a mental health day and go to the beach or grab a friend and go out. Giving yourself a break to break free doesn’t mean that things are better or that you’re ‘over it.’ You’re simply giving yourself permission to feel something positive - laughter, love, peace, calm. Often when things aren’t great these are the things we can really use but we’re so deep in getting through whatever has us down that we can’t find space - so make it! Get wild for a minute. Focus on a creative passion like art or dance. Play with abandon.
9 of Cups
b xSometimes when you’re on the cusp of something great, there’s an energetic resistance that we experience because we don’t feel like we deserve it for some ridiculous reason. You deserve it. Allow yourself to feel worthy of joy. Notice the ways that success has shown in your life already. Acknowledge those times and consider how something great could be coming to fruition for you soon, building on the past wins. Know that even when times are tough and things don’t seem great, there is still a place for excitement, amusement, or wonder. You’re allowed to feel conflicting emotions and the argument could be made that it’s actually helpful when things aren’t great - it gives a little something to look forward to, afterall.
6 of Pentacles
Have you heard about the concept that you see what you look for or what you’re paying attention to is what grabs your attention? That’s what this card is telling you. While it’s important not to bypass feelings like frustration, sadness, or despair. It’s also important not to dwell in them. Feel them and let them be processed and passed through your system. And, if you can, feel grateful for the process, for the cycle. Let that attention be what grows - not the feeling you don’t want about whatever’s not great, but the gratitude that you have that you were able to acknowledge and process it. Maybe that little nugget of thankfulness can stick with you as you go about your day and lead to you noticing an interaction between a family at the store that creates an opportunity for a slight smile from you which the little girl sees and giggles and someone nearby hears and grins ear to ear. That little nugget will keep growing from there. Gratitude and compassion will always build and attract more of the same. That’s the invitation of this card - notice the moments of abundance, no matter how slight or small, and let the magic happen!
Queen of Swords
This Queen is clear, calm, cool, and collected. She is wise, thoughtful, and logical. Sometimes when things aren’t great it’s important to simply say, “Things aren’t great. Period. Yet I know that nothing lasts forever, not the best of times, and not these times either.” The energy of this card invites you to tell it honestly and clearly and to do what needs to be done to survive and get through the dregs. Don’t assign extra meaning to things looking troublesome for a bit. That’s life. We all have ups and downs. Acknowledge and move on.
Whether things aren’t great for you right now or you remember this reading in the future when things feel less than lovely, I hope you find guidance and inspiration to keep going and come through to the other side. Tomorrow is always another day.
LightFire my
Tony Niccoli by
f f f
For me, camping starts and ends with one thing. It’s been this way since I was a kid, and I expect it to continue for as long as I’m able to get out there and enjoy unwinding in nature. Its not that first smell of a pine forest as you’re getting close to camp, though I do truly love that every time. Its not finding a perfect spot, unfolding the chairs, cracking open the cooler. For me, the bookends that define camping are the moment you light the camp fire, and the sad realization that its time to check and make sure its completely out. Everything before and after that is just preparation and cleanup. But while that fire stays lit, I’m on camp time. You wouldn’t expect Olympians to compete for their medals outside that window of time, and you can’t expect me to fully relax and feel completely disconnected from the rest of the world until I’m symbolically initiated with my own opening ceremony.
We may let our flame die out to go on hikes, or try our hands at some fishing, but I always know that its just waiting for me to get back to the campsite and get it started again. Something deep within us all is only truly mesmerized when lost in a fire. Like that last bit of our brain, which is ever circling, and only temporarily distracted by a TV, book, or some mindless scrolling is finally in its proper element and ready for release. Nothing in the world compares to the feeling of staring at a dancing flame and losing the rest of yourself in its calling.
Studies have shown dramatic impact on heart-rate, blood pressure, and nervous system response in the presence of a fire. It is a universal part of being a human being, and something that we all have experienced in life. There is calm and serenity found in the simple act of staring at a fire. It turns out that even fake fires broadcast on a television can have the effect of pulling people out of their normal stresses and mental loops, and putting both the body and mind at ease. The universality, coupled with the fact that it can be induced artificially with a video of an actual fire, suggests that this is something inherited – an evolutionary trait that is common to us all and built in at a cellular level far beyond our control.
My favorite time to ponder these sorts of inherited implications is of course while staring at a campfire. Knowing that I’m connected to a practice that humans have been observing for eons. Fossil evidence shows that fire may have been controlled and tended as far back as over a million years. And cultures around the world share similarities in their civilizer stories, often including a divine trickster or benevolent force that took pity on man and their lack of such a useful tool. They say that the world-changing implications of controlling fire were stolen away and gifted to humankind in secret, often with a severe punishment for the defiant party that came to our aid. Likely, it was actually a bolt of lightening that started our intimate relationship with flame. Remnants of charcoal show that fire clearly scorched and refreshed the lands for many millions of years before humans began to interact with its warming salvation and illumination. But at some point, a threshold was crossed, and a fire already consuming natural grasslands or bushes was fed and carefully tended. It would have immediately become the single most important tool in our arsenal – often the difference between life or death. Once that illumination spread, it was only a matter of time before we experimented with the awesome power of creating it ourselves.
Just imagine the awe of early peoples, already well educated in the importance of fire, but unaware of our ability to become its creator, when they first saw a mystic or sage among their group will fire into existence. There is no surprise that so many cultures have the idea of the passing of knowledge and intellect in humans directly tied to that story of the original creator or benefactor of fire.
Today we tend to take it for granted. Its just fire. Flick a lighter and its there on command. But a sudden disconnect occurs when we get to camp and its damp, or we are missing tinder or kindling. Suddenly the member of our group that can will fire into existence is once again elevated to the level of mysticism and worthy of awe. So if you aren’t the one who normally starts the fire, if you’ve had a few bad experiences seeing them go out when you tried to get things started – or worst, if its just been far too long since you have let go of all your worries in front of a fire – make this summer the time you step into your own strength, and perfect the field-craft that is building a proper fire! Its really easier than you might imagine, and it all starts with understanding the basics. Wood is flammable. That’s just how campfires work. But anyone who has ever lit one knows that even though wood burns, a big old log won’t just light right up if you drop a match on it, not even hold a lighter to it for a really long time. It takes a lot of heat, and some time, to get larger pieces of wood burning. The best way to get that heat and time is a smaller fire. You can think of it like this – your end goal is large, roaring fire that your family can sit around and enjoy, but that will be started by a smaller fire of kindling, which in turn will be started by a miniature fire of tinder, which is where you place the tiny fire of your match. Each one of those, working together is what results in the final full-sized fire that we enjoy. And because we are relying on each progressive step to get us going, its essential to have everything prepared in advanced. I’ve seen several examples (and created a few myself) of someone getting their tinder lit, transitioning it to a small bit of kindling, but then running out before the logs actually light. Or having an ill-timed breeze ruin the tinder. If you are scrambling to find more fuel once you already have things lit, chances are you will fizzle out and have to start all over. In windy or damp conditions this becomes even more problematic! So take a few extra minutes before you begin to make sure that extra tinder and
For tinder, I like to use what I find. While there are a few products out there that claim to burn with enough heat and duration to skip the tinder to kindling step, I like to just hunt around the area and keep it all natural. Dried leaves, dry pine needles, cattail fluff, dry grass, dandelion heads, even shaved bark work well as tinder. Once that tinder all gets going, you need a little kindling to transition to a larger and hotter flame. For this, I like to have a good mix. Some of it absolutely tiny, almost in the range of tinder. Think of twigs not much bigger around than a pencil led, or thicker clusters of dry pine needles. From there, you want to transition into the actual kindling which should be cedar bark and dried sticks and twigs. We don’t want to use anything thicker than our thumb here because it will take too long to ignite and may allow the fire to go out or be smothered before you get sufficient heat to jump to the larger fuel. The kindling should be spaced out to allow plenty of air to circulate between the sticks and to also penetrate the tinder below. Again, having much more than you need is always the key. I stack a heaping armload not far from the area that I’m starting the fire, even if I only use two handfuls to actually get
If all goes to plan, you ignite the tinder. Maybe blow on it a just a little. And then as it bursts into a solid fire it should produce enough heat to ignite your kindling that was arranged adjacent to or overlapping the tinder. That kindling will jump the fire up in size and produce a significant amount of heat. If you can keep that going for several minutes with the flame touching your smaller logs then you should have a campfire on your hands. Getting from that kindling fire up to the full thing depends mostly on the shape and design of the fire you are building. Assuming that all your logs are dry and not green (or freshly chopped) the most important part will be airflow. All the shapes we are going to discuss will give plenty of breathing room for getting them ignited, so you just want to pick a shape you enjoy and one that works well for either cooking or any other specific conditions you might be expecting. The two most common shapes you see for campfires are the tepee or cone shape and the log cabin. They are both easy to set, do a decent job of protecting the tinder and kindling from very light wind, and set the stage well for a visual comfort feature in your camp. Once you master either or both of these, you might want to practice a little with a lean-to, star, or inverted fire. And finally, after mastering getting all those started and well fueled there are some odd balls out there like a keyhole, Dakota pit, or Swedish torch that come in hand in very specific situations. Lets take a look at the classic tepee first. If you asked someone to draw a few stick figures standing next to a fire this is the fire they would sketch. It starts with just a little tinder, usually on the ground or elevated by sitting on a small pile of kindling. It will be in the very center of your firepit and doesn’t need to be build very high, or spread out too far. Surrounding this bed of tinder, you build an inner ring of kindling. The tepee shape starts right here. Try to stand up the larger kindling and by bracing it in the center – against other kindling that crosses from the opposite side – you begin to form the cone shape that gives this fire its name. Keep plenty of space for air to pass as you build but make the ring completely surround the kindling at the base. Once you have the inner ring of kindling surrounding and protecting the tinder, start a larger outer ring of some of your smaller splits in a circle around the kindling. Again, these should be standing on end, and meeting at the top in the middle to complete the tepee shape. Leaving a little gap that is wider at one point should allow you to get your hand in to the middle so you can start the kindling burning. Building in this shape will allow for lots of airflow and produce a very hot fire that gets large quickly. This is great on colder nights, or when you just want to sit and enjoy watching the fire. It also produces excellent coals for cooking. Just wait until you see the original tepee collapse and you can get a pot on the there to start dinner. After you cook those hot coals will quickly get another larger fire going especially if you keep some fed with a little fresh wood off to the side. The only drawback to a tepee shape is that it will burn through wood a lot faster. It’s a classic, but be ready to keep this one well fed.
Next up is the log cabin. To start this one take two of your largest sized logs and lay them parallel to each other, about as far apart as the they are long. This is going to be the base you use for construction. In the middle lay out a little tinder, along with another cone of kindling just like the previous tepee style. Once you have that built, create a second layer of the bigger logs on the outside, but this time run them perpendicular to the bottom set so you create a square. Keep building just like you are playing with blocks or Lincoln Logs, using slightly smaller logs as you go up. You want three or four courses and the end result should look like a little log cabin there in your fire pit. Its easy to light, and give plenty-
Have questions about buying a home?
Visit p1fcu.org/firsthome to download our guide, or get in contact with one of our mortgage professionals.
-of room to add extra kindling as needed to get that larger outer fire going. This burns much more slowly than a tepee and will not only use less logs, but also require less maintenance. The fire really gets going well at the top first, and as logs burn they fall in on the lower courses creating an excellent way to feed more wood to the coal bed at the bottom. If you are already comfortable with the tepee and log cabin, then you know how to get a great fire started and already understand how it will burn and consequentially how to best feed it as the night goes on. At this point you may want to have a little fun and try some alternative shapes. A classic, and probably the absolute best fire for doing lots of cooking, is the pyramid or inverted fire. Instead of starting the kindling and tinder in a protected position at the bottom, this design brings that early portion to the very top. Start with your very largest logs at the bottom. Place four or five together, all touching – you won’t need a lot of air flow down here since the fire will migrate from above. Loosely fill the cracks between the logs with a little kindling and maybe even just a touch of tinder. Then create a second layer that is just a little smaller by running three or four logs at 90 degrees across that first row. Again, keep these close and fill a little kindling in the top spaces. Using one less log on the top row, create another perpendicular platform and chink those cracks with plenty of kindling and some loose tinder. Finally, on top of the rows of logs create a miniature platform of just larger kindling, with a final platform of the smallest kindling on the very top. The result should be a perfect pyramid shape – just light a small pile of tinder and drop it onto the top kindling and watch this slowly start to catch and work its way down. This will burn for a very long time, needs almost no attention to keep it fed, and always has a solid top that is ideal for smores, hotdogs, or supporting a kettle and cast-iron pan as you do more elaborate cooking. The major down side to a pyramid is that initial ignition. With all your kindling and tinder exposed and elevated you really become susceptible to wind putting it out before you get the logs to fully catch. So what if you are facing windy conditions (assuming its still safe to even have a fire)? A perfect solution would be the lean-to style camp fire. To build this one take a moment to see where the primary wind is coming from and then set your biggest log down near the edge of the fire pit, with its broadest side facing directly into the wind to create a blockade. You might even want to make a base of two large logs next to each other with a third large log sitting on top in the groove between them to raise the height and provide even more protection. Once you have that protection set, build a little pile of tinder right up against it on the side away from the wind, and create a small tepee of kindling that is wider and lower then normal to protect the tinder. Use extra of both to make sure you have enough fuel for the early minutes. Finally take some medium sized logs and lay one end on the ground, and the other end elevated on the top of the wind block logs. This should be fairly close together as there is sufficient space for air coming from the two open sides. The result is a triangle shape that does an excellent job of protecting the initial blaze from wind and even give you plenty of room to get your arm in one side to work on getting it all lit. If you want a fire just to look at, don’t need to do much cooking, and are running really short on wood, then consider-
-a star. This starts like a tepee with some kindling and a cone of kindling in the very center. Build this up a little larger than normal to get the ends of the larger logs started and be patient as it all gets going. For the outer section, take five or six logs or larger splits and set them in a star shape around the circular cone in the middle. They should be butted up against the center cone and running their length out away from it creating a star shape. They begin to burn from the ends, so you just occasionally push them a little farther into the bed of coals that is created in the middle. This burns for hours and hardly uses any wood. There are so many other options out there! I occasionally use a Dakota hole for some of my best camp cookery (and talk about them again in this issue’s Flank to Flame). This is a really fun one to dig out and very safe in less than ideal conditions. A keyhole is like a combination of the tepee and log cabin. You have a round section that keep fueling and a longer and lower section that you allow to burn down to coals. You can cook for hours out on the blade of the key, and just continue to rake coals occasionally as the cone next to it blazes through wood. Finally, if you happen to have chain saw in hand and just one really, really large log, you can cut a Swedish Torch. These work even if the ground is soaked or covered in snow. Just turn your log on end so it sticks up in the air and cut it into quarters lengthwise but don’t go the whole way through. Stop your cuts about 4 or 5 inches above the bottom. You can rough up the cuts a little with a hatchet or knife to help them catch falling embers and help it get started, but then slow the eventual burn. Make sure its stable on the base and give it some extra support with rocks around the bottom if needed. Then build a tinder and kindling pile on the top just like a pyramid and get it lit. You’ll get to watch it slowly burn down for hours and have a perfect flat cooktop for your kettle or pan as it goes.
So now you have a bunch of fun fire designs in mind, how about a couple of tricks to get them all going? I mean, you could bring along a pack of matches and patience- right, but I find it a little more fun (and less aggravating) to have a trick or two to bypass the initial struggle of getting a flame that is strong enough to get the next phase of my burn going.
Two of my favorite tricks are actually to help you get that first round of kindling started. I often find, especially in stronger winds, or shortly after a rain when the best twigs are still a little damp, it can be hard to get enough heat in the early phase and this makes it really frustrating to get the fire started. Want to keep it easy and get to relax a little sooner? Then just try my flaming steel and holy cannoli tricks!
The flaming steel is just a little tuft of steel wool, and good-old 9 volt battery. Keep these separate in your pack! I like to use a Ziploc bag for each one to make sure they don’t pick up any moisture, and then I keep them in totally separate pockets of my gear. The first time you pull out just a little whisp of that steel wool, stretch it out both length-wise, and width-wise and touch it to the top of the battery you’ll see why I’m so insistent on keeping these apart! Steel wool plus 9 volt equals instant flame! Its going to flair up really quickly and get to a high heat instantly. Drop this on to your kindling and watch the pile catch in just a few seconds.
Still not sure that your fire is starting quick enough? Just make some holy cannoli. During the spring and early summer I never toss out a paper towel or toilet paper roll – those little cardboard sleeves are just too valuable. Instead I stuff them with dryer lint. In fact as we start to get closer to camping weather I always have a little factory going out in the garage, with a few ready to go in a large Ziplock back to make sure they ignite on their own. When we first bought our house, there wasn’t a proper vent for the dryer and it really worried me for the few weeks before I got around to cutting a hole in the house and installing a vent hood. Dryer lint is known to be some of the most incredibly flammable material you can find! But now I use that knowledge to my advantage at the fire pit. Some dryer lint, loosely packed into an empty toilet paper roll, with plenty hanging out the two sides looks just like cannoli, and burns just like a tank of gasoline. Holy cannoli - I don’t ever camp without these anymore. There could be bears, mountain lions, and wolves out there so remember, you don’t have to leave the gun. But you do have to bring the cannoli.
Moore.J.A.01: Portrait of Julia A. Moore later in life
The Richest Woman In Latah County
By Elaina Pierson
“Men think business is hard for them but – when in addition to trying to find support for my family I have all of a mother’s duties beside, it is no wonder I find life hard.”
This is a line from an 1896 letter written by Moscow, Idaho, widow Julia A. Moore. The recipient of the letter, a George Black of Whatcom, Washington, was three years overdue in paying a debt to Moore and had apparently been avoiding any communication with her. The exact amount of the debt is not stated, but she mentions that she has been obliged to pay $450 (equivalent to almost $17,000 today) in interest on top of the taxes for the debt, indicating that the balance was a sizeable one. A financial interest of this size being held by a woman, though extremely uncommon for the time, was nothing new for Julia Moore, known by some as “the richest woman in Latah County.”
Julia Ann Kneen was born in Rochester, New York, on January 14, 1844. In 1864, having moved with her family to Wisconsin, she married Charles Moore, a veteran of the Civil War who was honorably discharged after being wounded in the Battle of Shiloh. In the year after their marriage, the couple traveled by mule team to Walla Walla, Washington, where they both taught school, Julia being the first woman to teach in the public school system there. In 1870, Charles was appointed postmaster of the city. By the end of his term four years later, he had acquired and successfully operated a farm in the area, and in 1878, started a farm implement business at Almota in Whitman County with his brother, Miles, who would serve as governor of Washington Territory 11 years later. In addition to a farm south of Almota at Mayview, the Moores also owned considerable acreage along the Snake River, as well as holding interest in the telegraph lines from Dayton to Walla Walla.
By 1882, the family – along with Charles and Julia’s four children – was in Moscow. Charles and Miles, being well acquainted with the needs of the area’s farmers, opened the first flour mill in the region at the northwest corner of what is now D and Main Streets. Along with their ever-expanding landholdings, Charles was instrumental in the creation of Latah County, spending months in Washington, D.C., to personally lobby members of Congress. Unfortunately, the stress of this endeavor took a toll on Charles’ health from which he would not recover. He passed away in August of 1888, having seen the successful creation of the county three months before.
Julia suddenly became the sole owner of hundreds of acres of land, much of which was leased out for farming and rock quarrying, as well as residential properties in and around the cities of Moscow, Pullman, and Walla Walla, and a number of various business dealings. Surely this was a daunting situation in which to find herself, but she met the challenge with determination and a keen sense for business.
Following the death of her husband, Julia and her children moved temporarily to California, then to Illinois, so that the children could benefit from the educational opportunities there, including attendance at Northwestern University. They returned to Moscow in 1896 to the large home she and Charles built on the corner of D and Howard Streets. Throughout this sojourn, Julia maintained a firm grasp of her businesses in Idaho and Washington.
The Latah County Historical Society holds an impressive collection of Julia’s correspondence, mostly held in letter books spanning from 1889 through the 1910s. Each book contains around 600 thin, parchment-type pages where her letters were copied, their addressees and page numbers noted meticulously in an index at the back. A casual glance through any one of these books reveals a savvy businesswoman with no intention of being treated unfairly.
One example, from January 19, 1897, is addressed to a Mr. G.L. Campbell of Pomeroy, Washington. An associate of Campbell’s had apparently heard about grain Julia had stored at the Ilia Warehouse across the Snake River from Almota and, instead of asking her directly, had inquired of her brother. Her reply, direct but polite, reads in part, “[my brother] has no considerable quantity of wheat, and it would seem that it meant my wheat.”
Another letter, dated August 3, 1889, is addressed to prominent Moscow businessman and future Idaho senator and governor William J. McConnell. She had previously issued a loan to another individual, and the note on that loan had then passed to McConnell, who offered to pay it off at fifty cents on the dollar. “This I will not accept,” she writes. “You can make any payment you desire on the note as an endorsement but it will pay the note only when such payment equals the note.”
The correspondence in the collection gives special insight into the challenges she faced, not just as a woman conducting business on her own at the turn of the 20th century, but also in dealing with the frustrations of outside forces.
A letter from 1903, presumably to officials of Garfield County where the Mayview farm was located, asks that a particular road be rerouted, describing it as such: “As the east end of said road is now located it is impossible to haul up the hill from main road such a load as can be hauled from Ilia to Mayview, and it is dangerous to life and limb to drive down the hill when at all wet. We consider it important to have this part of said road re-located that we and the traveling public may be able to go to and from the main road in comparative safety.”
A 1921 letter from George Shepherd at her Mayview farm describes struggling to get grain from the farm to the storage warehouses on the Snake River. The Mayview Tramway was built to serve this purpose, dropping 1800 feet down the side of the canyon to the river.
At the time of the letter, the Tramway was regularly breaking down, and when fully operational was unable to keep up with the demand. Shepherd ends with, “It sure makes it expensive but will do the best I can I assure you.”
One would be forgiven for wondering just how rich the “richest woman in Latah County” was, but it is difficult to pinpoint her exact financial worth due to unavailability of records, difficulty tracking down land valuations and stocks, and other challenges related to how wealth was estimated. However, newspaper articles from The Daily Star-Mirror of Moscow provide some insight. On May 10, 1912, a notice was printed about the proposed bond to cover paving of city street intersections and the amount each property owner or taxpayer would have to pay. Julia’s share is listed as $14.89 - an astonishing amount when considering that the majority of taxpayers in the town would owe less than one dollar. Another article in the January 15, 1916, edition lists the Latah County entities that were taxed the most in 1915. Julia is listed among such notables as the Potlatch Lumber Company and Washington Water Power, and her share of over $1700 is more than that of the Spokane & Inland Electric Railroad.
In 1907, Julia and her oldest daughter Flora moved back to Walla Walla, following youngest daughter Edna and her new husband. The next year, their family home on D and-
-Howard Streets was sold and became the Ursuline Academy, a convent for Catholic nuns. Though no longer residing in Moscow, Julia returned regularly to handle her business affairs. The Daily Star-Mirror routinely published lists of new arrivals to the Hotel Moscow with Mrs. Julia A. Moore making consistent appearances. The newspaper’s “city briefs” section frequently featured a notice that she was in the city and would be available to meet anyone who wished to conduct business with her. One of these notices instructed interested parties to call Mr. Veatch of Veatch Realty to schedule an appointment with her.
By the late 1920s, her involvement in these affairs seemed to have diminished considerably. She passed away at her home in Walla Walla on January 30, 1930, at the age of 86, leaving her two daughters and two sons, Henry and Fred. She is noted in various sources as being of a prominent family both in Walla Walla and Moscow, one that was integral to the formation and growth of the fledgling cities.
For 42 years following the death of her husband, Julia A. Moore persevered, providing for her children while protecting and expanding the family business. It is unclear whether she was formally educated in such matters or if it came to her naturally, but in any case, the accomplishment of being a successful mother and businesswoman of her time is still admirable over a century later.
01-05-199: Charles and Julia Moore home at the southeast corner of D and Howard Streets, later the Ursuline Academy
“Alright, everyone,” Mavis yelled above the breakfast table din caused by her children and husband, Marvel. “I have an announcement! I’m declaring today a Hollowday. Finish your chores. We’re going to the pond!” Mavis fully expected the chaos that ensued from her band of children. Her oldest, Otho, was home on leave from the Air Force, making her brood a complete set of seven Swans. Her heart swelled; she loved the ruckus of having a full house. It was a rare spring day when the farm sat idle, waiting for crops to grow and the grass to dry for haying. School was out for summer, and for once, the Swan children’s schedules only included chores. Otis scampered out to the back porch, slipped on his rubber boots, and roared out of the screen door with enough gusto it slammed against the side of the house. His trusty sidekick, Zeus the Rottweiler, followed as they bounded down the worn wooden steps. Otis loved days spent at their family pond, otherwise known as the “Hollow.” He didn’t know why they called the swimming hole and cluster of trees at the edge of the Swan property the Hollow, but it didn’t matter. A Hollowday ranked high on the fun chart, right up there with Christmas, birthdays, and Halloween. The pair scooted through the barn door to let out the horses and milk cow. Zeus helped to herd them outside to the fresh green grass awaiting them in the fenced pasture, and Otis turned on the water spigot to fill the massive metal trough. Otis could see the driveway and watched his mom make her way down the porch steps with her arms loaded with supplies for the day. It took a lot of food and provisions for eleven people and two dogs to do a Hollowday just right.
Otis slid his hand into Grandma Helen’s as they strolled along the grassy path toward the Hollow. He squeezed, and she squeezed back. It was a thing they’d done for as long as Otis could remember. The hand squeezes involved no words, just a mutual agreement that they were happy to be with each other no matter the adventure. Zeus floundered about in the grass, sniffing, digging, and occasionally barking. Grandpa Ed drove ahead in Old Yeller, with Deanie, Cletis, Chuck, Doris, and Gladys riding in the back with firewood and the cooler. Otho and Zoinks, Helen’s lazy bulldog, rode in the cab with Ed. Mavis and Marvel were ahead of them in the Falcon, loaded with lawn chairs, fishing equipment, food, blankets, and other items “needed” to spend a day away from the luxuries of home.
“Otis, let’s go over by the creek,” Helen suggested as she veered them off the path toward the small creek that fed the pond.
Otis giggled. Every spring, when the weather held, he and Helen made their way to a specific spot next to the creek (pronounced “crick”) to check the consistency of the mud on the water’s edge. According to Grandma Helen, if the mud squished between her toes in just the right way, it was time to plant the garden. Otis didn’t care what kind of science or voodoo conjured this notion in his grandma’s mind. All he cared about was the naughtiness of the shenanigan that involved mud and didn’t get him into trouble. He tore off his rubber boots and stepped over to “the spot” with his bare feet. Helen took off her loafers and socks and joined him.
“Wooo, whooo, that’s cold,” she squealed as she kneaded the mud with her toes. “Let’s make butter, Otis.”
Otis didn’t know why she called squishing toes into the mud “making butter,” but again, he didn’t care. Mud was mud, even if you called it butter. The two stood next to each other, toes working the gooey, brown earth. The mud was cool, and the chill worked its way up Otis’s body. “Look, Grandma,” he said, laughing. He held up his arm to Helen’s eye level. Otis had an abundance of fine hair on his arms, to the point his friends and family teased him when things got nippy and caused the hair to stand straight up. Helen giggled and ran her hand over the fur on his arm. “Oh, Otis, you’re cold! Let’s call it good. I’ll be able to plant garden day after tomorrow.”
They both quickly splashed through the foot of water in the creek to wash off the thick, muddy goop from their feet. Otis launched out of the water and landed in the tall, sun-warmed grass. His somewhat numb feet started to tingle, and he put his face up to let the rays wash over him.
Suddenly, he felt a poke on his right big toe and then another on his left ankle. He immediately looked down. To his horror, he saw he’d landed smack dab in the middle of an ant hill. But not just any ant hill…they were black and red ants. And black and red ants were mean.
“Grandma! Ants!” he yelped and jumped away from the small mound of dirt.
“Oh, Otis!” Helen shrieked. “Get in the water!”
Otis scampered back into the cold creek and vigorously rubbed his feet and ankles. “Holy Batman, it hurts!”
Helen scurried over to her grandson, dancing around in the water.
“Hold still! Let me see how bad it is.” She bent down and inspected Otis’s feet through the clear water. Several tiny pink dots were on his feet, toes, and ankles. “Wow, they attacked quick, but I think you’ll live. C’mere.” She motioned toward the mashed-up mud from their “making butter,” grabbed a glop, and smeared it on Otis’s legs, ankles, and feet. “Better?”
“Yeah,” Otis breathed. “I hate those ants!”
“Don’t say you hate them,” Helen said, smiling. “They were being ants and got upset when someone crashed into their home.”
“Gee, Grandma, I never thought of it that way,” Otis relented. “I feel kinda bad now.”
“I’m sure they’re well on their way to rebuilding after Earthquake Otis,” Helen laughed. “Are you going to be able to wear those gawd-awful boots over the mud on your legs and feet?”
“Yep,” Otis replied with a smile. “Believe it or not, that’s usually how I end up when I wear them, muddy on the inside and out.”
Helen laughed, and they meandered back onto the grassy path now squished down with two sets of tire tracks. Zeus ran through the open field around them, and by the time the party arrived at the Hollow, a large spread of bologna sandwiches, chips, macaroni salad, and a gigantic plastic tub of homemade cookies sat on the floral oilcloth covering the picnic table. The cooler, filled to the brim, sat on the ground next to the table. The lawn chairs and a few blankets under the trees rested, ready for napping and lounging later.
“Oh, Otis, you’re a muddy mess,” Mavis stated. “Why didn’t you wash off in the creek?”
“I did,” Otis replied. “And then…the ants attacked.” He dramatically regaled his family of the unfortunate landing into the ant hill and the biting frenzy that followed. “Grandma slapped some mud on it, and I’m fine.”
“Oh, Otis, only YOU could find the one bad thing about making butter,” Otho laughed. “Little O Bro, nothing’s changed. You always find some sort of mischief.”
“Hey, it finds me. I never go looking for it,” Otis stated. The entire clan laughed at the easily arguable declaration. After sandwiches and several hours of fishing and playing around the water, everyone settled down in either a lawn chair or on a blanket. Otis flopped onto one of the big quilts next to Gladys and Chuck. He felt tired, but after about ten minutes, he began to fidget.
“Oh, Otis, would you lay still,” Gladys said. “I’m trying to read, and you keep bumping me.”
“I’m not sleepy,” Otis said.
“Well, I am!” yelled Marvel, two blankets down. “So, either shut up or go find something quiet to do.”
Otis looked at Gladys and Chuck. Gladys giggled and went back to her book. Chuck, however, nudged Otis and pointed, indicating they should take their exit and, indeed, find something to do.
The two boys got up and tiptoed away from their resting family as stealthily as they could. Cletis joined them with a fishing pole in hand, and they journeyed to the opposite side of the pond.
The trio stuck to quiet amusements: skipping rocks, searching for crawdads (they didn’t find any), and finally plopping a worm-baited hook into the water to try their luck at fishing.
But for Otis, fishing took too much waiting with very little payoff. He’d only caught four fish in his entire lifetime. He watched his brothers for a while but soon found himself wandering over by the reeds at the edge of the pond. They would produce cattails later in the summer, but right now, they sometimes held intriguing surprises…like frogs. He may not be able to catch fish, but he sure as shootin’ was an expert at nabbing frogs. He nudged the base of the green stalks with his boot and watched for movement. Today didn’t disappoint.
Three frogs hopped onto the muddy ground and looked around, bewildered at what shook them awake. Otis squatted down to watch them. His rubber boots sank slightly in the softened earth, but that was the whole reason he’d clodded up here wearing them. No comfort but easy clean up. He spied three more frogs, sticking their noses out of the water. He slowly reached down with expertise and placed his finger next to one of the frogs. It looked at the foreign object and hopped on board.
Delighted, Otis sat back on his haunches and brought the frog to eye level for closer inspection. Cletis and Chuck quietly walked over, knowing not to make loud or sudden movements. Everyone knows frogs can be skittish. The two brothers squatted down on either side of Otis and inspected the little green croaker. It was only about an inch and a half big and a yellowish shade of green. It wasn’t a giant, smelly bullfrog but a sweet little guy Otis immediately liked.
“I brought a jar just for this very thing, but it’s back at the picnic area,” Chuck noted. “Just put it in your pocket for now. You can put it in the Frog Den in my room when we get home.” The Frog Den sat on a bookshelf in Chuck’s room, an old fish tank renovated for amphibians captured at the pond and around the farm.
“Oooo, good idea,” Otis breathed. He placed the little frog into the chest pocket of his jean overalls and stuffed in a little bit of moss and a leaf to keep his new buddy comfortable.
“WHAT THE SAM HILL IS GOING ON?”
The three boys jumped in unison at the bellowing voice behind them. Otis lost his balance and fell face-first into the pond, boots still stuck in the mud. Chuck startled violently and landed flat on his back, and Cletis screamed like a girl, started to run, tripped over his own two feet, and landed with an “Ooof” on his belly. Grandpa Ed roared in merriment, which echoed over the pond in a thunderous roll. If anyone across the way was napping, they certainly were awake now. “What are the three geniuses up to?” he asked, smirking.
Otis stood up, dripping wet, peeked in his pocket to make sure Fred the Frog was ok, and then shot a glare at his grandpa. He sloshed over to offer Chuck a hand up. “Thanks a lot, Grandpa Ed! I’m completely drenched!”
“And I’m all muddy,” Chuck lamented. Cletis rolled over on his back. “And…I… can’t…breathe.”
“Sorry,” Grandpa Ed offered.
“No, you’re not,” the three grandsons said in unison. “True,” Ed chuckled. “I’m sure not going to rely on you three during a crisis, I can tell you that. Nice scream, Cletis.”
Cletis turned a shade of pink and sheepishly stood.
“I got worried when I saw the three of you slink off and then heard nothing for, oh, about thirty minutes,” Ed explained. “Silence is usually a bad sign with you three.”
“We were just fishing and catching frogs,” Otis defended. He opened up his pocket and leaned forward. “See?”
Ed peered inside the opening and spied a little frog. “He’s pretty cute,” he said. “Didja name him yet?”
“Fred,” Otis stated. “And I’m going to keep him. Chuck said he could live in the Frog Den.”
“Ahhh. Don’t forget he’s in your pocket,” Ed warned with a wink.
“I won’t,” Otis declared.
Ed’s eyes looked beyond his three grandsons toward the mass of reeds. “Hmmm, check it out, fellas.” He walked over to one of the tall, thin fronds and gently removed something. He turned around with a big smile plastered on his face. “Lookie.” Between his thumb and index finger, he held one of the eight spindly, long legs attached to a mid-sized spider.
The three boys stared in awe and amazement.
“This here is a Daddy Long Legs,” Ed whispered. “Would you look at that,” Cletis murmured.
“Yeah, but why are you holding onto him, Grandpa?” Chuck whispered with a tinge of unease.
“Why are we whispering?” Cletis asked.
“I don’t know,” Chuck continued in a hushed tone. “I did because Grandpa did.”
“Oh, you have to whisper because Daddy Long Legs have very keen hearing,” Ed breathed.
“Spiders can hear?” Otis whispered.
“Most can’t,” Ed said in a barely audible tone. “But these guys, these guys can hear as well as a human.”
The spider only wiggled a little as his captor stuck out his hand for the boys to have an up-close examination. They all leaned back at first but then leaned in, fascinated that their grandpa was holding a spider by one leg.
“How come he’s not biting you?” Cletis asked softly.
“They don’t bite humans,” Ed replied quietly. “They like humans. In fact, if you ask them directions, they can tell you.”
“They can talk, too?!” Otis whispered loudly. “How have I never heard of THIS!?”
“Shhhh,” Ed silenced. “They can’t talk. But watch.” He brought the spider close to his mouth. “WHICH WAY’S NORTH?”
The three boys jumped at the bellow but then stood in complete-
-bewilderment. Their grandpa, one of the most intelligent people they knew, was screaming at a spider.
“Sometimes it takes a few tries,” Ed said in his normal voice. “This one might be old and getting hard of hearing.” Again, he shouted,
“WHICH WAY’S NORTH?”
One of the spindly legs of the creature shot out, and the boys gasped in pure astonishment.
“No. Way.” Chuck couldn’t believe what he’d just seen.
“One of you try,” Ed suggested.
Cletis nudged Otis. “You do it.”
Otis looked at his brothers, who both nodded their heads up and down in encouragement.
Otis cleared his throat and shouted at the spectacle in his grandpa’s fingers, “WHICH WAY IS NORTH?”
The three brothers stood holding their breath for its answer. The eight-legged compass obliged, poking out a different leg but in about the same direction as the first. None of the three observers noted whether the direction the spider “pointed” was actually north. They just whooped and hollered that their precious arachnid friend had heard and answered Otis’s query.
“You try, Chuck,” Otis shouted.
“Ok,” Chuck smiled. “WHICH WAY IS WEST?”
Again, Daddy Long Legs poked out a different leg, but it was in a different direction this time. The three boys shrieked with glee. It must be west.
“WHICH WAY’S SOUTH?” Cletis joined the jocularity.
Bing! Out popped a different leg in a different direction.
“That’s so cool!” Chuck shouted. “They’re so smart! Who knew a spider could hear?!”
“And understand English,” Otis pointed out.
Ed snickered as the boys continued to shout out questions about directions. He marveled at their gullibility…and innocence…and savored the moment. They never questioned whether the Daddy Long Legs pointed in the correct direction, never questioned their grandpa. Ed turned his gaze to the opposite side of the pond.
The remainder of his family milled about the picnic table, setting out dinner. After hot dogs and s’mores, they’d all load up, tired, dirty—especially Otis—and happy. Ed lamented. This Hollowday might be the last they were all together. They’d celebrated Deanie’s high school graduation the weekend prior, and Otho was getting stationed elsewhere after this brief leave. The only thing that stayed the same was change.
“C’mon, boys, let’s head back,” Ed said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Looks like they’re getting ready for us to roast some weenies.” He carefully returned the spider to a reed. “Better say goodbye.”
Otis, Chuck, and Cletis leaned close to the spider. “BYE!” they shouted in unison, and, as if to say, “So long, friends!” the creature lifted one leg.
***
“OTIS BARNABUS SWAN, WHAT IN THE SAM HILL IS IN YOUR POCKET?!”
Otis sat straight up in bed out of a deep sleep and smacked himself in the head hitting the bunk bed above. His mom’s shrill shout from the laundry room downstairs was loud enough to wake him and Chuck at the early hour of five o’clock the following morning. “Dude,” Chuck rolled over and said sleepily to his little brother, “You forgot to take Fred out of your pocket when we got home last night.”
Otis rolled out of bed, groggy. “I better get downstairs. She sounds mad. She yelled loud enough for the Daddy Long Legs to hear.”
Laughter is the best medicine… except when laughter turns into leaking!
At TriState Urogynecology, we understand that it is NOT a laughing matter when you are experiencing symptoms of a pelvic floor disorder. You are not alone; one in every three women will experience a pelvic floor disorder during her lifetime. Did you know that our clinic is physician referral AND self-referral? If you are hesitant to call our clinic or talk to your primary care provider about the symptoms you are experiencing, that is okay! We have made it as easy as we can for you to receive the high-quality care you deserve. Visit TSH.org/Urogynecology to fill out an online new patient form today!
To learn more and to fill out our online new patient form, visit TSH.org/Urogynecology.
